


X Marks the Spot

by MythologyPastry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Arguing, Because yes, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Moira O'Deorain, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Complicated Relationships, Deadlock Jesse McCree, Dildos, Dubious Science, F/F, F/M, Fall of Overwatch, Fingerfucking, Halloween Costumes, Human Experimentation, I love her, Love/Hate, M/M, Multi, Neck Kissing, Porn, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Present Tense, Rialto (Overwatch), Science Experiments, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Time Skips, Top Moira O'Deorain, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, because i think thats sexy and thats good enough for me, but briefly mentioned, doctor wlw, it's how i like to tell a story, moira has no ethics, no beta we die like lacroix, so i hope you understand this will jump all over the place timewise, this will cover a lot of stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythologyPastry/pseuds/MythologyPastry
Summary: Overwatch, but with soulmarks; my own take on the idea.
Relationships: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Jesse McCree, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters will be added as they are introduced.

Angela Ziegler is born with her mark on her throat. It's a gold wisp of flame that shines bluish purple in the light, and her family fawns over it every chance they get. Some people never get marks; some people never live to meet their match. But she's a romantic, and the idea that someone out there is made for her makes her swoon.

She focuses on her studies, determined to meet her soulmate as an already accomplished doctor. She wants to make them proud. Angela goes out of her way to get publicized, to have her face shown on medical journals.

She's not certain, but she assumes her soulmate is also a doctor. At least, she hopes so. It will be hard to juggle their personal life if both of them go by different schedules. Angela, or Mercy as she is now known, doesn't want to feel guilty every time she gets called in at the crack of dawn.

* * *

At a conference, Angela meets Moira O'Deorain. The older woman is smooth, and her mismatched eyes twinkle when they're introduced. They share thoughts over drinks, and when they part, Angela promises to email the Irish woman some of her most recent research from a study in Bern. But the young woman is no idiot, she's heard about the older woman; her genetics research stands as a pillar of controversy. Angela doesn't actually intend to send any such email.

And when Angela gets home, she tugs off the gray turtleneck and rubs at her mark gently. Later in bed, she thinks that perhaps she should have worn something more revealing. Any of the people at that conference could be hers.

Even Moira, but she dares not think on that one.

* * *

Jesse McCree doesn't believe in soulmates.

He has a mark, but Ashe is so pretty and brave. She doesn't have a soulmark. Everyone knows it, and she'll never let you forget it. She's too good to have a mark; she makes her own destiny. Besides, as she points out one day, omnics don't have marks either. If they can be happy without them, so can she.

Jesse does think it would be nice, though, if she shared his mark. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, and they still fuck regardless of the small pumpkin on his back. Ashe whines when he touches her just right, and he moans into her neck as his hips speed up and she pulls him in deeper.

He's known her for years once Gabriel Reyes rolls through, but he doesn't look back; Ashe has already started to lose the plot, and McCree doesn't want to be dragged down with her.

Reyes is gruff, and he has a terrible habit of insulting McCree for anything, but he's kind enough at first. McCree can stand him. But when Overwatch is bombed, and Reyes is missing, McCree begins the believe the rumors. Reyes was always a sketchy son of a bitch, and after Rialto, McCree knew everything with the other man would go downhill soon, and fast.

He decides he'll hate Reaper for what he's done, Reyes or not.

It's easier than the alternative.

* * *

It comes up during Mei's medical examination. "Do you not have a soulmark of your own, Mei?" Mercy's question is hesitant. For some, it's a touchy subject.

Mei doesn't seem to be bothered though. "I don't, but I wish I had one as pretty as yours."

Once upon a time, Mercy would have been flattered by that statement. Instead she raises a hand to her throat and taps lightly. She tries not to think about it too much anymore. "I'm flattered you think so. I haven't always thought it was pretty."

"Oh, but it is!" But Mei takes the hint, and they move on.

* * *

"Oh."

Moira frowns at the sound, looking up at Genji with frustration. She's half-tempted to kill him for this. "Are you going to get my gear, or are you going to stand there like an idiot?"

Genji looks at her with something akin to pity, but he doesn't say anything more, instead passing her what she needs to fix the wound. They sit quiet together as Moira focuses on her tools. There, right above her ankle, is a golden spot that they both recognize as the one around Mercy's neck.

Finally, Moira looks up at him. "You can't say anything of what you saw."

"She deserves to know."

"You think she doesn't know?" She practically hisses it at the other Blackwatch member. "You think I haven't told her?"

His eyes widen, and he nods, getting up to continue the mission.

Moira stays behind. She still needs a moment before putting pressure on her leg. "Grand," she mutters. "Just grand."

Genji never brings it up again. For that, Moira is somewhat grateful. She'll never tell him that, though.

* * *

Echo laughs, and Jesse feels a deep pain. He likes her enough, but humans and omnics can't be soulmates. At least, they don't have a physical representation that binds them. He's not sure if that works differently, or if the divide between science and nature is too far a gap.

As he's gotten older, he's gotten sappier. He thinks often about lasering off the pumpkin. Of pretending it was never there, but he still doesn't know who it belongs to. In a way, he can't imagine getting rid of it. He might not care as much as others, but maybe his mate does. Maybe lasering it off would upset them. Maybe they would know, somehow.

He parts with Echo, knowing that she is bound for greater things. If Jesse were to compare himself to anyone, he's increasingly fond of those old Star War movies with Harrison Ford. He feels, quite often now, like he has become a rugged Han Solo as he's aged.

That might just be his pride, but he likes to think so.


	2. Chapter 2

Moira hovers around her, less like a hummingbird and more like a gnat. The two work in silence, but the smell of Moira's perfume infiltrates Angela's thoughts and leave very little room for the files she's attempting to read. The older woman smells like tea, coffee, and a heavy woodsy smell that Angela can only describe as _Moira_. She looks over her files twice, thrice, no wait, four times before giving up.

She looks over at Moira, who is currently smirking down at something on her screen, and says, "Could I help you?"

Mismatched eyes meet her own, and they flash with an emotion the Swiss woman prefers not to label. "Pardon me?" The words roll of Moira's tongue with interest and very little bite. It makes Angela uncomfortable, and she hates that.

Everyone else gets Moira, the bitch, and she doesn't. If anything, she gets Moira, the friend, but it never feels right. Something isn't right here. It's just not. She rubs her thumb softly against her soulmark, and Moira's gaze drops and lingers with a pressure that envelops both of them.

Angela's forgotten exactly what she's wanted to say, and it just adds to the frustration she feels. "You've been hovering," she accuses, taking a step forward to the corner of her office that Moira has claimed as her own in these past few days. "We aren't working on anything together; we don't have to sit together, but you join me every time we're not in the field."

"Can I not appreciate the company of a fellow doctor?"

"You could, if you didn't violate your oaths to suit your needs."

That one hits a nerve; Moira's nostrils flare, and she raises fully to her feet instead of leaning up against the desk. "The pursuit of knowledge advances humanity every day, and our restraints on experiments just hold us from reaching a higher standard. The paradigm of what makes science normal changes with the times, my dear."

Angela scoffs. "Are you describing yourself as the next Galileo, then?"

"If the shoe fits..." Moira walks around her the desk, and Angela can feel the heat coming off the older woman as she steps closer. "But it's also the pot calling the kettle black."

"That won't work on me."

"Oh? And what of you? Your experiments are questionable, too. You're no different than me," Moira taunts. "It's true, what they say, you haven't aged a day."

"Any tests I do on myself are my own business," Angela says, less firm. "But I am not immortal."

"No, but you are beautiful." Moira waits, letting the compliment sink into the air before continuing, "Beautiful like you're never going to hit thirty, beautiful like you're never going past thirty. Imagine what the rest of us could do with that time."

"Absolutely not."

"So you admit it then?"

"That is beside the point, and you know it."

"No, I don't. You say our medicine, our skills, are dedicated to preserving and bettering the life of our patients, yet you keep a miracle from them!" Moira's eyes are wild now, a feverish tint in her cheeks, and Angela leans forward into her fire without thinking. "You're selfish with desire."

"And you're not?" Angela's volume rises. "We don't even know the effects of the procedure. It would be cruel to give this to someone else without that answered. I could die tomorrow, _beautiful_ , and I would still be dead."

Moira moves forward, a hand reaching towards Angela, but the younger woman doesn't flinch as a firm hand settles on her collarbone. The older woman lightly massages the blueish gold wisp with her thumb, and they both shiver.

"If I gave you the same treatment, and you die, then what does that say?" Angela asks quietly, avoiding Moira's eyes.

Moira lowers her head down to breathe against Angela's neck, her nose resting against jaw. "Science is cruel; we can't save everyone."

"That's not good enough for me, and it shouldn't be for you either."

The older woman sighs, and she rests both of her hands on Angela's hips, pulling her closer as she lowers even further and presses a firm kiss to the soulmark.

"That's-"

"Shhhh," Moira murmurs, "It feels good, doesn't it? Soothing?"

"Not, um, soothing, per se." But Angela doesn't push her away, which Moira takes as approval. "Please, I-"

"Anywhere, but there?"

Angela's core burns, and she sighs, "Yes."

"As you wish."

* * *

Jesse doesn't understand why he tortures himself so, but he looks through old files anyway. He refuses to be like Gérard, Jack, or god forbid, Reyes. Overwatch was a part of his life. It's over now. There's no point in letting memories haunt him.

Yet, he still goes through the documentation that he has. It's very little, whatever could be collected and stored on his phone, but it's still enough to satisfy a curiosity. Reinhardt's back fighting the good fight, and with Torbjörn's little girl to boot. Moira is in Oasis now. He wonders what her colleagues think. What a witch.

Ana is still dead. He could never find her, but part of him, the irrational part, still dreams.

McCree groans and throws the phone off his bed. It disappears under a table, and he settles on the dingy bed of his hotel room. It's too late to consider this now.

Tomorrow is another day. Another mission. Another check.

* * *

Moira chucks her bags by the door and goes back to see her brother in the kitchen. He's making a fry, but she hones in on the fifteens in his fridge. "Did your wife make these?"

"What?"

"The fifteens?"

Liam laughs. "Yeah, because you always eat them."

"They're the North's best export," she says before taking a decent bite. It's primarily marshmallows and cherries, and she can't help but sigh. "I love your wife."

"Your soulmark says otherwise."

Moira's smirks. "About that, I think I might have found her."

Liam curses as he drops his package of bacon. "Ah, shite. One second, Moira."

She shakes her head as she picks it up for him. "Don't get your hopes up. She's pretty different than me."

"Soulmarks don't always mean you're gonna fuck. Maybe you'll be best friends."

Moira laughs. "Or we'll rip each other's throat out."

"Or that... Could you pass me those tomatoes on your left?"

* * *

Jesse McCree has seen many things, but this is one he's never considered personally.

"Getting X-ed is an older fashion, and it's pretty uncommon now," The doctor prattles on, two seats down from the gunslinger and trying to impress the younger girl hanging on his arm. "I remember when it first hit Central America. It was like a drug. Anyone who rejected the old ways, and especially anyone who rejected the church, got that procedure done."

McCree lights his cigarette and keeps his face as neutral as possible.

"It removes the soulmark's appearance. Sensitivity in the region stays, of course. But, it looks like any other tattoo."

Reyes had one of those, McCree thinks. He had a grandma in Guatemala, right?

The doctor and his sweetheart get off the train a few stops later, but McCree stays.

Figures that bastard would rebel against the system, huh?

* * *

Sombra takes one last sweep on the uncorrupted Overwatch files. She almost skips over the soulmark file.

A database of agent soulmarks? How detailed.

Very few people within the agency match, and Overwatch had made it their policy to not introduce soulmates. Something about medical privacy. Sombra rolls her eyes. Right there is a policy put together just to avoid workplace romances.

Someone, however, also put together a list of the most amusing soulmarks, and one catches her eye. Number twenty-three is a pumpkin.

She stares at it far longer than she should, really. Time is money.

But she knows it, somehow.

She's just not sure why.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really consider myself good at writing porn at all, but I have to warn you, this whole chapter is Moicy porn.

The two of them look ridiculous. Moira's makeup is half smeared, and Angela's face is covered in grayish purple marks, but they don't let that stop them. The Irish woman pulls them aside into someone's office, both of them too drunk to care whose.

But they don't stop touching each other, and Moira lifts Angela onto the desk, purring compliments against soft skin. She laps at the bright soulmark on her neck and listens to the blonde nearly fall apart at the motions. Angela's chest heaves against hers, a constant stream of eager Swiss German in her ears. "Bitte, bitte, Moira-"

The redhead grins, moving a hand from hip to inner thigh, pressing on Angela's clit through her leotard. She moves her thumb up and down the slit, and Moira curses. "You're so wet for me. Do you think I can make you cum like this?"

"Yes," Angela says breathily, and she tugs on Moira's hair. "But I want your mouth, please."

Moira considers this but doesn't say anything as she pushes the blonde's shoulders down, letting Angela cover the desk top. "Another time," she promises, palming at Angela's perfect tits. "After this."

Angela pouts, and she almost complains, but then Moira's hand is pushing the leotard away and sinking her finger knuckledeep in Angela's cunt. The younger woman is so soft and warm, and Moira lets her finger curl to rub at her gspot, grateful she filed her fingers down just the previous day. Angela sobs as Moira sinks two more fingers in and has her thumb swirl softly over her clit. The Irish woman coos soft apologies, not meaning a damn word, and lowers her head to lick at the beautiful mark that binds them.

"Moira, Moira," She repeats, voice broken by moans and sighs, her hips grinding down on thrusting fingers.

And eager to please, the redhead nibbles and laps lightly at the soulmark, keeping her thumb at a constant but brutal fast pace. "Cum for me," she commands in between kissing Angela's neck. "Cover my fingers in your cum."

And Angela whines, and Moira, tired of waiting, relentlessly sucks the gold skin at her throat, and Angela screams in delight as she cums. Moira's fingers are squeezed, pulled in by pulsing walls, and she laughs at the sight of an utterly debauched Angela Ziegler.

"Do you still want my mouth?" She teases and brings her hand to her mouth, tasting her victory with a grin. Angela just stares back up at her, dazedly.

"What about you?"

Moira's gaze settles on the blonde's mouth. "Oh, don't worry," she says firmly. "There'll be time for that, but first I want to make you mine, again."

* * *

Their sexual relationship had started quite easily, as many do. Moira had gone to deliver a form to be signed in person by pen, an almost archaic demand of Overwatch command. She hadn't knocked, because Angela Ziegler had no secrets to hide.

No secrets like her own, anyway.

But what she found instead both pleased and surprised her, the younger doctor half naked, sunk down on a rather impressive sized dildo. Angela had made a funny sound, one Moira liked to tease her about in public, strangers unaware of its significance. Moira hadn't ever walked away from such a delightful challenge, never, especially not then.

"May I stay?" She asked, almost cruelly holding the door ajar. Part of her had wanted Angela to keep going, just like that.

The blonde stared up at her for a minute, before slowly riding the dildo again. "Only if you make sure no one else joins."

"A pity." The Irish woman closed and locked the door behind her as Angela's eyes darkened. Moira made a point of unbuttoning her shirt and ditching all of her clothes except her socks in a slow fashion, taking her time to watch Angela's face as she fucked herself gently. "You're so beautiful," she murmured. "Let me see you. Let me fuck you instead."

Angela whimpered and pulled herself off the dildo, laying down on the cold linoleum with a wince. Moira settled on the ground between her legs and took the dildo in hand. She had smirked and plunged it in the blonde's cunt, sighing at the sudden sound of Angela's deep and loud moan. "Do you like that?" She said, eyes never leaving the sight of Angela's pussy clenching around the silicon. Her slick covered her inner thighs, and Moira started a rough, brisk pace that let her watch Angela break.

The younger doctor hadn't said an intelligible word past that point, pants and moans and sobs telling Moira all she needed to know. She had fucked Angela just like that until her phone buzzed, some sort of alarm. Moira had sighed, and smiled, and pressed her other hand carefully against her clit, rubbing in tempo with the thrusts, and the blonde wailed as she came.

"Someone might come if you keep that up," Moira drawled. "I have to go catch a plane. Will you be alright here?" _Do you want me to stay instead?_

"No," Angela exhaled. "You can go."

"Alright."

"But, I want you to cum too."

Moira's face softened, a rare sight. "Don't worry about that. I'll be fucking myself to this for quite some time." Then, a too-familiar smirk grew on Moira's face. "I'll have to expand on this though. I wouldn't want to get bored."

Angela bit her lip. "No, I think that would be bad for all parties involved."

"Most certainly." Moira looked over at her clothes with disdain. She hated the idea of having stripped for nothing, but then she thought of Angela's face as she had, and suddenly it didn't feel so bad. "I really don't have time," she said slowly.

"Do you like vibrators?"

"What?"

Angela laughed and pulled out a little blue bullet vibrator out of a desk drawer. "This will do the trick."

Moira flushed, but she spread her legs and let Angela settle between them regardless. It was one of the hardest orgasms of her life, and she knew that she would never be able to give this up, even if part of her had wanted to from the very first minute she had laid eyes on the younger woman. She knew it was a bad idea to intertwine their lives so completely, but that was the pull of their connection, of fate demanding its say.

But goddamn it, this was brilliant all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might reformat this work and remove the Jesse part entirely; this would mean two separate fics which I would bundle together as a soulmate collection. If you have any opinions on that, let me know in the comments.


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel Reyes was young when he got X-ed; his father had joined up with paramilitaries in Guatemala City, never to see Mexican soil again. He was thirteen when he saw his father and grandmother for the last time; he still remembers her singing him to sleep before his mother came to whisk him back to Los Angeles. Gabriel was a bit too young for such things, but he let her anyway. She loved to sing.

His Guatemalan family all died when the newest regime was implemented, the first since the peace accords in 1996. Gabriel's mother's side had sent him condolences from throughout the U.S. and Mexico. His favorite had been from his five-year-old cousin, Katherine, in Boston. Her letter had a poorly drawn picture of his soulmark, and it had made him think of something else, if even for a moment.

He didn't go back to Guatemala until he was eighteen but still stupid with childish courage. The regime still existed, sure, but he was foolish in the belief that no one would touch the guy with the American passport. His first stop is the graveyard. No one knew where his dad ended up, but his grandmother was buried by her favorite sister. He traced abuela onto her stone and cried.

After he flirted with the wrong man, Reyes got his teeth kicked in at some shitty bar. Five guys jumped him; someone knocked him out. He doesn't know how. Then, he remembers coming to and being pulled out of the building by his hair. The taste of dirt from being dragged was nothing new. He'd gotten into plenty of fights before, sure.

But then they took him to a side house, where someone pulled out the syringe and knife used for these types of things. They had laughed at him as he begged in every language he knew, including the little bits of Q'eqchi' his Grandmother taught him. None of them cared. Looking back on it now, Gabriel is certain his pleading made it worse.

The X hurt like nothing else before. He would take a thousand bar brawls over it anyday. His skin burned, but a chill ran through his blood, and all the pressure culminated in his head like it was about to pop right off.

He was lucky to leave Guatemala alive. Reyes practically crawled to his hotel room and hauled up in there until his return flight. He watched tv and tried not to shiver as his mark quivered and writhed.

On his flight back, a priest made eye contact with him and openly appraised the big X on Gabe's forearm. The look of disgust burned at his soul. He never stepped foot into a church again, not on his own terms anyway.

He had done a lot in his time in the military. They took him when he felt no one else would.

Reyes didn't look back.

* * *

They've been arguing for hours. Moira's self-experimentation has gotten worse; they both can't stand to look at her hand. It feels Angela with fury, the Irish woman with a curious sense of dread. The topic's bounced around like a pack of crickets, but eventually Angela lands on a killing blow.

"You make me sick."

Moira's eyes shine with tears, yet she smiles anyway. It hurts much more than anything else the blonde has said. Not even sass will help her here. Not against Angela. Never against Angela. "I know."

The younger woman blinks, the spell of anger broken. The aggravation slips away from them both, and Angela's fist unfurls. She drops it to rest by her hip.

Moira doesn't dare look her in the eye, focusing on the golden wisp of her throat instead. It's beautiful. There's no greater sight. Her eyes water, and she hates it, hates that this is what conquers her.

Angela curses and pulls her forward into an awkward embrace. Her blonde hair tickles at Moira's chin, and she pushes the younger doctor away from her softly. "Don't," she warns softly. "I have to go. Dublin calls."

"You hate going back home to Dublin," Angela says aimlessly, but she doesn't plead any further as the Irish woman leaves.

She has a plane to catch.

* * *

There was no pretense that Reyes liked Jesse McCree more than the bottom of his own boot.

Usually, the two men didn't get along, but McCree took orders well, and that was just fine by Reyes. He would rather have one disgruntling asshole than an idiot under his command any day of the week.

When he picked up the kid, there was something about him that Gabe had liked. A lot. At the time, he thought it was an ego thing, that McCree had reminded him of himself, when he was younger.

It wasn't until the kid's papers came in that it all came to a halt. Reyes had cursed at the image. He had cursed a lot, more than he ever had before. Part of him had wanted to kill the kid and pretend that the mistake had never happened in the first place.

But once he had some coffee and calmed down, he reevaluated the situation. No one would know, besides him, that they were marked. Frankly, Reyes had little interest in the boy besides his skill with a gun, but feelings of guilt swarmed him anyway.

Fuck, Gabriel Reyes is no pedo.

In the end, he decided something simple. McCree would stay, but Reyes would keep out of his business. Better yet, he would be a complete asshole and shut down any attempts to fraternize. He might be tied to the kid, but that doesn't mean it has to go beyond the typical relationship that he'd have with anyone else under his command.

There was always a look in McCree's eye when he was insulted though, and it bothered Reyes whenever he had the time to focus. Whenever they weren't getting shot or yelled at.

But he never let that guilt take over him. Yeah, they're soulmates. But soulmates can mean anything. Soulmates can even run in families. Platonic soulmates, romantic soulmates, combatant soulmates.

Reyes knows they aren't the second one. He just hopes they don't end up the third one. He likes the kid enough to not wanna shoot him.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many chapters there will be. It's whatever I feel like, I think.


End file.
